Enter the Sandman
by glittergoddess13
Summary: Dean goes solo after a Sandman makes him hurt Sam. Torture & past guilt come to haunt beyond imagination.  Worse, Sam dreams he has to kill Dean to save him. LimpDean! LimpSam! HurtDean! HurtSam! ProtectiveSam! Pain!  Torture! John! Mary! Hug! Breakdown!
1. Visions of Death

**Author's note: This is a continued saga from Exit Light. Not necessary to read Exit to understand it. The only info you need to know is Dean is attacked and begins to hallucinate. Eventually, the hallucination lead up to Dean attacking and injuring Sam. Fear of losing Sam causes Dean to leave Sam and strike out on his own. Now the real fun begins. I hope you enjoy.  
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**-x-x-xxx-x-xx-x **

**  
ENTER THE SANDMAN**

Falling to his knees, Sam stared in incredulity at Dean's undulating, sobbing, whimpering, wasting form. Dean's face was gaunt, haggard, ashen, and tear-reddened. Regret, pain, and loneliness mixed in Dean's eyes. A torrent of tears fell and streaked upon the tears that had already been shed. . Falling to his knees, Sam stared in incredulity at Dean's undulating, sobbing, whimpering, wasting form. In truth, Sam had never seen Dean cry like this.

The sight of Sam's face set off more terrible tremors to Dean's core. A whirl fearing, loving, and begging Sam intertwined in his confused mind. All he wanted was for Sam to love him and to forgive him. "Sam, I'm sorry...please, don't go... please...please" Dean whispered weakly. Dean's sanity and internal functions were darned to a tenuous thread.

Reaching into his pocket, Sam began searching for something. He stopped when Dean's fear intensified. Sam held tight to a gun in his hand.

Dean's eyes flashed in horror and he lamented between uncontrollable sobs "Sammy no, please...please forgive me... I'm sorry. Don't...don't kill me... please...please don't. Do you hate me that much!!!!??...Sammmyyy...I…..why... please?"

Dean recoiled in terror. He pushed his fearful frame up against the cushioned wall. There was no other place to maneuver.

Sammy inched closer to Dean's fearful and tearful eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam struggled to say through lips pouted by sorrow. "I can't let you go on like this. Please, let me help you. Just hold on…I'm going to end this for you.. Please." Sam begged.

"Sammy… I'm sorry… I should never…" Dean's broken voice rasped harder. "I'm.."

"Shhhh…its okay… Whatever it is, I forgive you, Dean." Sam's frame sneaked closer. Sam was close enough to touch Dean. "But you can't go on like this.. I won't let you!"

Dean looked up at him with sorrow that was tinged by a glimmer of hope. "Then, please...don't…..don't go." Dean's lamented between sobs "Sammy no, please...please forgive me... I'm sorry. Don't...don't kill me... please...please don't. Please don't hate me ??...Sammmyyy...I…..why...I love you Sammy... please...WHY, SAMMY?"

"I'm sorry, Dean. It's all going to be over son. I can't let you go on like this."

DEAN!" Sam awoke with an eerie shutter anda deafening scream. The vision had shocked him. There was no way he would ever take Dean's life.

Frantically, Sam sat upright, popped his jaw, and flinched in pain. One eye struggled to open, but managed a half slit. The murky noon had turned to a moonless and starless night. Thunder rumbled a warning of rain in the near future. Sam's soulful eyes were devastated not to view Dean in the ransacked motel room. His mouth smashed in pain and loneliness. It took a few moments for Sam to notice the folded paper in his hand. He stared at the messily scrawled Sammy across the front and traced the S with his fingertip. Sam knew Dean had left him. He feared to see those words in a note. That would mean it was real and final. It was something Sam couldn't live with. He angrily crumpled the note in his hand so that it outlined the keys within. He fought to hold back the verge of sorrow within him. After a few deep breaths, Sam uncrumpled the paper and opened it. The Impala keys thudded in his open palm. Sam's previously gagged sob force its way out of his throat with loud wail of anguish. Sam stared in disbelief at the page.

Sammy,

Take care of yourself. Don't look for me. I'm sorry I won't be there to watch your back. I can't let myself hurt my little brother anymore.

"Anymore!" Sam uttered loudly, as if the need to contradict Dean's statement aloud would take away how his brother had felt. His voice faded, but his quivering lips mouthed "Dean"

I swore I would protect and follow you into any battle. But, ths is one I can't let you ride with me, Sammy. And you better take care of my car!

Throwing both the note and keys aside, Sam sprang out of bed to look for his cell phone. Savagely, he dialed Dean's phone. Sam didn't know if he was going to scream at Dean or comfort him when he answered. The phone began to ring to connect to his brother, as sense of hope welled in Sam at the thought of hearing Dean's voice. Echoing in Dean's dumped clothes pile, the phone began to ring. Sam turned startled when he hear the noise and quickly started to dig in the pile. His heart broke when Dean's ringing phone shook in his hand. Anger boiled in him. His thoughts lingered on why his brother was such a jerk, why did he have to think of everything, why couldn't he have left one clue to where he was going, WHY,WHY, WHY? Fear gripped him as he fought back the images of his vision- a vision of him with a gun getting ready to kill his beloved brother.

The anger grew to such intensity that Sam threw Dean's cell phone smashing it into shards. The anger and worry pumping thorough him brought him crashing to his knees.


	2. Pacer

A whirl of fuzzy purple dice whizzed out the driver side window of the lime green Pacer and smacked in the yellow line to land on snake eyes. A sadistic satisfaction crossed Dean's lips into a smile as the stuff neon pink hippo was the next victim to soon fly out the window's vortex. He hadn't smiled for days, but vanquishing the cuteness out the window brought some light to his face.

Glancing around at the other happy fuzzywuzzy in the car, Dean groaned over the uncool factor. At least when Sam looked for stolen vehicles, he would never buy Dean would steal this craptacular sugarmobile. For that matter, who in their right mind would want to steal this thing, much less own it. Dean took it as another sign he was not in his right mind.

He had driven over ten hours. He was exhausted, but he had little need to try and rest. What good would that do for a man who no longer had the ability to sleep? The further he got from others, the better. He reminded himself he was 12 hours away from a haven, if not for himself, for Sammy.

"Dean, this exercise in futility is getting old," The Sandman's voice pushed into Dean's mind.

Dean cocked his head and forced his face to meld into undying determination. He only had to be strong for 12 more hours, he repeated in his head. If it took all the fight within him, he would make those 12 hours. "So should I off the doddle bear that says with my all my love, your Snookems or should that fuzzy thing with the huge eyes next? "

"Do you think your façade of amusement protects you?"

"No, I just think this cuteness is scarier than you. Uh….I think the orange kitty needs to go! I'd throw your ass, but you aren't really here and I am not talking to you anymore. I mean you didn't remember our anniversary at all." With that Dean picked up the stuffed kitty, which rattled a purr sound. "Now, that is so not right. Blah!' Dean hurled the kitty out the window. "There I feel better now!" It was a lie, but it kept him going.

"Dean, you are mine."

"Now, Sandy, can I call you Sandy. I told you, you couldn't keep stalking me like this. Its over. Time to move one!" He said in fake condescending tone. "Now, sweetie. Don't take this so hard."

The Sandman wasn't amused and the ached in Dean's head grew to a hot scorching pain. "No….not now… not when I am so close to keeping everyone safe."

"Everyone! You are only keeping yourself safe- your secret safe."

Lost in determination, Dean barely noticed the man standing on the abandoned highway. Slamming the breaks with such force that more would drive the pedals through the floor, Dean was sure he was about to mow the man down, if there was a man actually there to mow down. The Pacers brakes squealed as the rubber transferred to the cracked road. Stopping inches short of the man, Dean's hands went bleached from pressing on the wheel.

Dean groaned as he believed that another illusion was upon him and he began focusing on a defense.

A gangly man tapped harshly upon the driver's side glass and yelled, "Boy, what in BE-JESUS are you doin'!!!"

Dean balled his fist in anticipation of an attack.

The man pecked upon the window harder. "Hey Buddy!"

Dean startled again and rolled down the window.

"Sheesh kid, you came out of nowhere. You almost..., the man stopped when he saw Dean's bloodshot eyes and death warmed over face.

"Holy Jesus, kid!. Are you okay? You look like someone dragged you back from the grave or something."

Dean chuckled at the irony of the last comment. "Yeah or something, Dean replied.

The man's concern over Dean's condition increased. "Kid, you need to get to the hospital. I've seen real accident victims in better shape than you." The man placed his hand on the car's door handle in an offer of assistance. "I can drive you to the hospital or call an ambulance if you want.

This was all Dean needed- a local yahoo calling 911 on him now. Quickly deciding a flavor of the truth would be the best excuse, Dean blurted, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm on my way to a hospital now. You see, my brother, he needs me to be there. I've been driving all night. I just want to be there for him...I'm." Dean allowed himself to get caught up in his own emotions for a moment. A flash of longing and worry sprang to life on his tired face. He pushed it away just as quickly. "I'm really sorry. I appreciate the concern.. I just need.."

"I understand. My little brother and I are like that. Just remember he wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger just to get to him. But if it were me, I would push that sucker as hard as lime green packer could go, too."

Tiredly, Dean looked up at the man, unsure of what he was talking about. Dean was so use to being in the Impala, that it took him a few seconds to register he was in that horrid green pacer.

"Kid, you're driving a lime green Pacer for Christ sake in a leather jacket." The man tried to tease Dean slightly in an effort to show he wasn't going to beat him for the almost accident. Plus, he realized that Dean had enough on his plate and a stress free moment might do Dean some good.

"It's my aunt's. My truck broke down. I'd drive a clown car to get to Sammy, if I had to."

The man laughed heartily. "Me too, kid, me too. The man patted the top of the car. "Just be careful, okay." He smiled broadly at Dean.

Dean nodded and restarted the pacer. He drove off cautiously until he was sure the man was nowhere in sight, then floored it. Thankful this small interaction had only delayed his progress, Dean told himself, "Only 12 more hours to go."


	3. Sam's quest begins

Sam had hunkered on his knees in the motel floor for over an hour. He was nettled by Dean taking off in one moment, and then hallowed him for taking off in the next moment. Sam felt everything and nothing all in one strange sensation. His vision had left him utterly befouled. There was no way he would ever kill Dean-NEVER! Rubbing his head, the words "Sammy no, please...please forgive me... I'm sorry. Don't...don't kill me" raced in his head. His vision self seemed to accept the charge of killing Dean willingly. He made himself believe that he could change that future.

Forcing his emotions to the side, he sprang up to his feet. His legs ached from being crouched in the floor too long. Infused by a new determination, he grabbed his duffel and started to cram everything he could in it.He needed to find out what happened to Karen Brown after her admission to the mental health place. The file ended there. That missing gap of info could save Dean's life.

His doggedness was enforced by his mantra there had been enough tragedy in his life and Dean wasn't going to be next in line. He had to start searching for Dean. There had to be some small clue to Dean's whereabouts, and there had to be a way to help Dean. After all, he knew Dean better than anyone else. Grabbing the Impala keys, Sam challenged, "You can't get rid of me that easily Dean."

------

Placing his forehead against the frosted glass of Dr. Benton's office door, the coolness brought some relief to Sam's swollen face and aching head. His action was less driven by desire to ease his pain, but the frustration of the locked door. Bright afternoon sunlight attempted to warm his face through an open window, but he turned away from its comfort.

He groaned again and turned to press his back upon the door. Tilting his head to rest upon the glass, Sam closed his tired eyes.

The office door opened inwardly causing Sam to stumble back. He head rested upon Dr. Benton's chest. Dr. Benton's initial fright was replaced by surprise of a visibly injured Sam.

Her voice was shaded by alarmed concern. "Sam, Dear Lord. What has happened to you?!" She quickly was trying to help Sam upright himself.

Regaining his footing, Sam turned to face her squarely. "It's a long story. I need your help."

"Okay.. of course…I was just closing up early today. What happened? It looks like you were beat by a sledgehammer." She motioned for Sam to enter as she closed her door. Sam plowed heavily upon the couch.

Dr. Benton opened her mouth, but Sam began to blurt out enough of the beans to expedite to the info he needed.

"It's Dean. He…..umm….. He's in trouble…he's lost it. One minute he was fine and the next he was on top of me."

Back to her comforting tone, Dr. Benton attempted to comfort Sam. "Sam, if Dean did this, we need to call the police."

"No, please. I…" Sam struggled to keep his composure. "He's not himself. Something happened when we were at the J&J nightclub and this person bumped into us. Dean swore the man dusted him with something. After that, he attacked me. When he snapped out of it, he was horrified. He bolted and I have to find him. I gotta help him."

Growing more passionate, Sam's composure was starting to wane, "I…I think the man gave Dean something. Please, I need to help him. If he attacks the cops like he did me, they'll kill him. Please, he's all I have."

Sam's voice started to crack and his lips began to tremble. "I can't lose him. Please, he kept talking about some Sandman crap. I….I…" Sam's face broken into anguish and he fought to keep his head in the game.

Alarm took over Dr. Benton as Sam's description was all too familiar. "Sam, we need to get Dean to treatment. And the police may be the only way. I had a similar case recently. We have to find Dean before it's too late.

The words too late resonated in Sam's ears. "Please, let me find him. If I can't get him to come with me… I'll call the police myself. I need to do this for my brother. He's my only family. I couldn't live with myself, if he got hurt. Please…"

Sam's pleading broke Dr. Benton's heart, but she was still willing to protest. "Sam… I can't."

"Please…What's happening to him…I….." A tear stained Sam's flushed cheeks.

Dr. Benton's nurturing nature overrode her better judgment as Sam quickly wiped at his checks. "Alright, but if you fail, then we go to the police."

"Thank you… I just need to know…" Sam's wanted more than anything to rush through this charade and find Dean, but he slowed himself into inquisitive concern. "What can we do for him? How can I get my brother back?"

Returning to her clinical self, "I'm afraid I don't know much about the cause. I treated a patient that had the same features as Dean. If Dean follows the same pattern, he will suffer from episodes of night terrors or a sleep-deprived panic attack. The only treatment that seems to quell the patient was sedation.

"Sleep terrors and panic attacks?

"Sleep terrors are quite dramatic to witness. The sleeper may let out a bloodcurdling scream, sit bolt upright, and attempt to fight or flee. A person may seem confused and agitated. Adults with sleep terrors tend to be agitated, anxious, and aggressive. Some have violent and injurious behaviors. A Sleep-related panic attack is an episode of intense panic that can include a racing heartbeat, sweating, trembling, breathlessness, or the feeling that they may be dying."

"Did the other patient get better?" Sam was still feigning composure as he was well aware of the patient's case.

"I can't tell you specifics Sam, but the treatment was working. With Dean's and the other patient's story having such specific similarities…I'm afraid Dean is right. Someone could be attacking them. Once the patient was showing improvement, we decreased the sedation. Then another episode came, and the patient swore the Sandman was attacking her." Dr. Benton's expression changed to apprehension.

Sam sensed there was something she was not telling him. "What? Please tell me, what is it?"

"It sounds crazy, but the nurse swore that she saw a man in the patient's room seconds before the episode. When she unlocked the door….he…he wasn't there."


	4. Got ya

Sam sprinted from hospital that housed Dr. Benton's office, making his way to the Impala. His heart was heavy that his brother was not waiting for his this time. He flopped into the driver's seat. The odd sensation of being behind the wheel filled him, feeling almost like a betrayal to Dean.

Thinking of where to go next was frustrating. The possibilities of where Dean could have hidden himself were endless. If Dean knew one thing, it was how to hide. Sam was relying on his own ability to lead the way. If Dean was going anywhere, he needed transportation and that was a start. Sam spotted a payphone across the street. Jumping from the Impala, he hustled over.

Dialing the local police station, Sam slid easily into the con game. "Yes, this is Detective Tristan Ross with the FBI. We have a BOLO out for a suspect. His getaway car was found near your area and I'm looking for a list of cars reported stolen in the past 24 hours….It would have been near the Eastern part of town."

Sam ripped a page from the phone books front and scribbled down the information. "Oh… Badge number…..oh, sorry." Sam pulled out his wallet and quickly thumbed through the multiple IDs. "Badge number 03011978..." The long pause on the other end started to make Sam nervous. When the voice started again, Sam let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Only three! …..a Mustang,…..a BMW,….. and a Pacer?. And you're sure, that's it?" Sam paused. None of the cars seemed to be Dean's taste. "Only three… Have any been accounted for?...The Mustang, okay… and the others?...the Pacer was seen at a gas station going east… no other info on the BMW… got it…...okay… which gas station was the Pacer seen?...Marv's Last Stop …..Thanks, you have been very helpful."

Hanging up the phone before the voice on the other end could say goodbye, Sam sprinted back across the street to the Impala. He leaned into the driver side window. Hoping to use the hospital's wireless connection, he grabbed his computer to search for Marv's Last Stop. He pulled up a map of the Eastern part of town, finding the gas station about an hour outside of town. "So you left town….ummm.." Sam thought aloud. His scrunched his lips and bit them as he pondered how Dean would think. He had a start now. If Sam knew his brother, Dean would pick some place remote. Sam started to wonder what abandoned structures were near Marv's Last Stop. He typed in "a" and the automatic complete feature showed a search for asylums. "What?...uhh." Confusion filled Sam as he hadn't used this new computer to search for that. He quickly checked the internet cache and found a website. "You used my computer, Dean!" Sam exclaimed in reflex. Sam closed his eyes in optimism and shook his head for a second. "Got ya!" Pulling the cord harshly from the socket, Sam lobbed his prized computer into the back seat. Jumping quickly into the Impala's driver seat, Sam couldn't help but say it. "Dean, you're a sneaky bastard".

-------

The lime green pacer lurched over the broken pretermited road that had not been utilized for several years. Wavering back and forth, Dean steered uneasily. His blood shot eyes were no longer able to judge perceptions and distance. His head flopped down and his eyes glazed. He had made it for the hours to get here, fighting of the Sandman. The toll it took on him was great. His body racked with pain and he needed sleep to recover.

"Dean," the Sandman taunted. His form visualized in the passenger seat. Removing one hand from the wheel, Dean swatted at the air above the passenger seat.

"No…. on… ummmm." The voices in his head became a turbulent jangle of noise. Pushing the voices back, Dean attempted to recite an exorcism. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. His hands become loose on the wheel and his body refused to obey his simplest commands. Somewhere in his mind, Sammy's voice came through- a memory of a time Sam had uttered the same Latin words.

"Dean, you can't keep me away forever."

"No!" Dean screamed pushing back with whatever muster he could. "Exocizamus…spiritus." His arms became languorous and fell to his side. Dean's head flopped upon the driver's head rest. Crashing into the Buxton House sign, the Pacer lurched to rest. Dean's head mashed into the steering wheel. Dean's head jiggled back as he attempted to focus. "Oomnis infernalis" His hand fumbled as he attempted to open the car door. Finally, Dean stumbled out of the driver seat onto the ground. He grabbed his head in agony as the multitude of noises and voices grabbed at his mind, pulling him in. He strained to stand, leaning heavily on the Pacer. Pressing his temple, he tried dominate the voices and regain control.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus". His feet moved in cumbersome uneven strides. Each step caused Dean to groan from fatigue. His mind was a lassitude wasteland- caring for little except for protecting Sam from this Sandman's folly. It was this thought only that propelled Dean forward, despite his mind and body wanting to relinquish. The ability to fight was weakening with each burst of effort. "Oomnis satanica potestas", he uttered as another clumsy step thudded. His knee buckled and almost sent him back to the ground as the Sandman's voice became clearer. "Dean…….Dean…." a taunting laugh filled Dean's head. Dean forced himself to focus. He grabbed his screaming, aching head. His breaths became deep pants.

"Oh God….Omnis….. incursion……………….. infernalis." Dean took another step and finally found entrance to the Buxton House. Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he crossed the threshold of the abandoned mental hospital. He stumbled through the hall, desperately trying to find a room to lock himself into. His journey was tortuous and he his steps were serpentine causing him to fall into either side of the wall as he progressed into the dim expanse. "Adversarii, omnis legio….." His muscles threatened to give out and collapse after a few steps. "No…just a little more….Omnis congregatio, et secta diabolica." Trembling, Dean screamed in pain. His face contorted with the agony pumping from every fiber of his being. "Perd…itio…nis ven..enum……hum….anae….. sa….lutis." The treat of losing himself or hurting Sam, pushed him forward to a room Dean had prayed for. Dean lurched his body through and collapsed on the padded floor. He jostled his remaining energy to slam the door shut. A strange sense of satisfaction emerged in a small smirk on Dean's face. He had won this battle; the only one he cared enough not to lose. All that remained would be between him and the Sandman.

"Dean… oh… Dean. It's sad that you find such satisfaction of keeping me at bay. With each passing minute, I am getting stronger and you are getting weaker. You have been my best opponent yet. Sadly, even that gets old. I'm tired of playing games with you. You're psyche is a much darker place than any terror I could ever hope for."

Dean stood face to face with the Sandman in his mind. Dean's bravado had escaped him and no snark passed his lips. "It doesn't …matter. Sam is safe……... That's enough… for me. Whatever you do to me, it was worth it."

"I think it's time you faced the truths you keep hidden behind that mask of lies. The things that creep in the back of your mind. No more games Dean, just pain!" The Sandman's image faded and the image that replaced it filled Dean's heart with longing and pain.


	5. Daddy's Got a Gun

Dean stood pale faced and awestruck. His mouth struggled to form words. "D…d…dad?"

"Dean." John's voice rang in Dean's head. "What have you done! I gave my life for you and you abandoned Sammy. You're a failure. Why did I die for you?

"Dad…" Dean's lip trembled and tears threatened to break. "I'm doing this for Sammy"

"I sacrificed myself for you…so you could be there to protect Sammy… Sam never listened to me and would never listen to me. He would never accept my protection…but he followed you... I made a choice to give Sam what he wanted and you can't even follow that order. I trained you Dean. I trained you better than to abandon your post. You might as well bury Sammy now. I should have let you die!

"I know Dad." Dean fell to his knees and tears began to fall.

"You weak bastard," John screeched and grabbed Dean by his jacket collar. Throwing Dean all the way to the ground, John's knees bore into Dean's chest. "I let you live and then you end up beating your brother half to death. John pulled a gun and placed it to temple. "Sammy's better off alone than with you."

Dean looked at the hatred in his father's eyes and his spirit broke. "You hate me that much???" A harsh breath of air sucked into Dean's lungs. "Dad, all I ever wanted was to keep you and Sammy safe and be like it was when Mom was…. I felt so safe at our house, then Mom died… and everything changed. You… I wanted my mother and father back… I…..needed you…" Dean hand grasped his father's arm, but John pushed it away.

"You know Sammy called when you were dying. The pain is his voice broke my heart. I got that message and I didn't care if you bought it….and you know why!?!. I know the secret you carry in your soul… did you think I didn't know everything about what happened the night Mary died. I took you to Missouri and she told me everything. You could have saved this family that night, but you didn't. It's your fault. And it's mine for not recognizing it sooner. " John cocked the gun and pressed it harder against Dean's forehead.

"Dad….please….I need your help."

"I'm gonna help you… Help you to not hurt this family or hurt Sammy ever again. You're not my son!" John's finger squeezed the trigger and a loud bang sounded.

Driving more like Dean, Sammy gunned the Impala to the extreme limits the engine would allow. Refusing to even consider stopping, Sam had not eaten or slept since Dean had abandoned him. He needed rest to recuperate from his injury, but he pressed onward. Heavy eyelids blinked back sleep. His eyes closed for a few seconds and lingered longer that they should have. His head weaved downward. Shaking it off, Sam regained control and forced his eyes to stare at the upcoming road. His leg became limp and the pressure on the Impala's gas pedal lessened. He blinked one more time and his eyes closed into a doze.

The Impala drifted to the right and front wheel dipped into the shallow ditch and slammed to a halt. Half in the ditch, the sleeping Sam jolted awake and slammed the brakes before the car went further into the rut. Sam's head smacked into the dash and soon found himself reliving his vision.

Dean's eyes flashed in horror and he lamented between uncontrollable sobs "Sammy no, please...please forgive me... I'm sorry. Don't...don't kill me... please...please don't. Do you hate me that much!!!!?? ... Sammmyyy...I…..why?...I love you Sammy... please...WHY, SAMMY?"

Sammy inched closer, watching Dean's fearful and tearful eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam struggled to say in sorrow. "I can't let you go on like this."

As Sam aimed the gun, Dean's breaths came in rasps of shock. Dean soon found that he was unable to breathe. He pawed at the air in front of Sam in a feeble attempt to hold on. Finally, his eyes rolled back and his body became limp. His last breath called out "Sammy".

"Dean!" Sam bolted up in a flash. He took a deep breath, pushing himself off of the steering wheel.

Witnessing the Impala half embedded on the side of the road, a gangly farmer sprinted through his field to the scene. The man tapped upon the driver's side glass, "Boy, are you okay?"

Sam groaned in despair of the vision and the thought of how Dean would kill him if he wrecked the Impala. He turned the engine off. Rolling down the window, he looked unsteadily up at the man.

"Sheesh kid, you came out of nowhere. You okay?… I'm starting to think this stretch of the road is cursed…" the man stopped when he saw Sam's bloodshot eyes. "Boy.. You are the second kid I've seen that looked like Holy Hell."

"I'm sorry...uhh... I just drifted there for a second. I just need to be somewhere and..

The man interrupted with a bewildered look on his face. "And you're the second kid in a hurry that has almost had an accident. And it looks like your face already had a run in this week."

"Okay." Sam said acknowledging the weirdness upon the man's expression. "That's a little strange. And this is definitely not my week" Sam opened the door and stepped out and was relieved the Impala seemed intact.

"Is there anyone here that can pull me out…uhhh….. Mr...???...uhhh..

"Joseph McGinty. Please to meet you." Mr. McGinty extended his hand to Sam, which he grasped and shook as firmly as he could.

"Sam. I would really appreciate getting out of this ditch and on my way."

"I got a truck and can pull you right on out, if you give me a minute. You're lucky you didn't do any damage to a classic like that."

"Yeah, it's my brother's. I'm just borrowing it."

"At least you have better taste than the last kid. He looked like Joe Cool, but that car was downright scary."

Sam's interest peaked, but he kept his voice even. "What kind of car was he driving?"

"The scariest lime green Pacer in the known universe. He about sent me to my maker hours ago. Poor kid was a wreck. Said he was looking to reach his brother at the hospital."

Sam's heart filled with hope as Dean was okay, at least recently. He just had to find a way to keep his vision from happening.


	6. Don't go Sam

**An hour later….**

Dean shook as the gunfire resounded into this skull. He shuttered as the image replayed again and again in an endless loop of torture. The words "You're not my son" ripped deeper into Dean's soul each time.

He struggled to push the thoughts back, but somewhere buried in Dean's insecurities these thoughts were there. He struggled to keep his family within his reach for so long, he wondered if he was a mere obligation to them. His father was once again upon his chest, intending to pull the trigger for the thousandth time. He struggled to tell himself that this was not his father; this was a distorted image of him.

"You're not my son." echoed again and the finger squeezed the trigger.

"You're not my father, this never happened." The bang sounded once more causing Dean to flinch involuntary. He waited in expectation for this torture to begin again, but the Sandman's was gloating in his father's position.

"For someone who doesn't believe this is real, you sure are reacting quite well."

"You, son of a bitch. This is not real...not real...my father….never said...never..he'd...never.

"Oh, you want realism?" the Sandman jested. "Didn't anyone tell you to be careful what you wish for!?!"

"My family protects each other...you...you can't change that...no matter..what...Dad would never aband..."

"But he did Dean! He left you every time he went on the road alone. He left you to provide for Sam. He left you to fend for yourself and only returned because Sam pressed him to be a part of the final battle. You were left to toe the line, shovel the load, while he was obsessed with revenge. He gave you the charge and obsession of protecting Sam. Who protects you, Dean? Who fights to keep you? No one! Name a consideration the man ever showed you."

"Shut up...Dad and Sam..."

"And Sam..hmmm...there's a topic. You drag him everywhere just so you don't have to be alone. You placed him in danger. He never wanted this life! YOU- you forced him into it. He hates everything about this life- this life your father chose for you both. And he hates you for it."

"Shut up! Shut Up. Sam could never hate me…Never!" Dean screamed as his skull shrieked in stabbing pain.

"You want truth. I have some for you."

The images around Dean swirled and he found himself standing in front of the Seaside Motel. A place Dean knew well. An argument between John and Sam sneaked through the motel wall. Placing his hands upon his ears, Dean desperately tried to block those voices out. Flinging the door open, Sam stamped out with John stalking two steps behind him.

"Dad, we need to talk about this. This is what I want. Why can't you understand?"

"Understand what! That you're leaving your brother and me when we need you. No, Sammy, I don't understand." John and Sam both fumed at each other with their faces inches apart.

Separating Sam and John, Dean attempted to recreate the mediation he had attempted years earlier. He pushed and stepped in between them. "Stop it, both of you. Sammy, we need you."

"He doesn't need me. We're just foot soldiers in his war. Do you even remember Mom, Dean?! He holds her up like a holy shrine."

"Shut up!" Dean spouted angrily when the memory of his mother was called into question. "Don't...don't..." His voice became softer. "Just don't, Sammy."

"Your brother's right, Sam. This isn't about Mary! It's about us-the family that we have left." John stepped closer. "Just get back in the motel."

"No," Sam took John's advance as a challenge and he pushed Dean aside.

"I said get back in the damn motel."

"Yeah...uhuh..And I said no."

Both men inched closer as Dean attempted in vain to pull them apart again.

"I'm going and you can't do anything about it. Most fathers would be proud of their son for getting into college...much less…"

"You're just running, Sammy. It's all about you!...you….It's always about you wanting to leave! What about your brother and me? We need you. You're just gonna walk away?!" John grabbed Sam's shirt and shook him as if he could shake his point into Sam's head.

"This is why I want to leave! I want to live my life. You're just pissed off you can't control me anymore!"

Dean struggled in wretched futility to tame the two bulldogs down from the fight. Sam grabbed John's collar and they both were locked in a standoff.

"You walk out on us, don't come back. Don't you ever come back!" John attempted to bully Sam with a stare down.

"That fine with me" Sam flared.

Dean managed to knock them apart and screamed, "That's enough! All right, you made your points. Stop it, both of you!" Dean physically held Sam back as he pushed John away with his other arm. "We can talk about this later."

"No, we won't." John turned his back on Sam and Dean and walked back inside the motel room.

Dean turned to his brother who still fumed in anger, "Sammy, I mean it, come on. Just come back inside until you both cool off." He touched his brother's shoulder in compassion, which Sam quickly knocked away.

"No Dean., I don't understand you either. You follow him blindly without question. He treats us like we're children."

"Oh, God, Sammy."

"It's Sam! I'm not twelve anymore. I'm tired of you and him just expecting me to fall in line. He barks orders at us and expects us to follow him without question."

"He does it for a reason…it's…it's part of who he is. Come on Sammy, we don't have time to think or argue with what we do." Dean attempted to reason with the infuriated Sam, but nothing was working.

"You want to follow him, that's fine, but I'm... I'm gone. You need to pick a side Dean because one day you won't want to follow him blindly either."

"I'm trying to be a good brother and son!" Agitation pulled at Dean.

"And to be a good son, you can't think for yourself?! That's pathetic. I'm tired of his crap and…I…I'm tired of yours, too." Sam pivoted and stamped off and refused to turn back.

"Sammy." Dean sprinted after him and blocked his path.

"No! I'm serious. Neither of you will ever see me again." Sam pushed Dean lightly at first. When Dean refused to move, Sam pushed him to the pavement. "I hate this life. I hate him and I hate you."


	7. Break Down

Chugging to a stop, the Impala pulled in next to the damaged Pacer. Sam stretched drowsily, but even exhaustion wouldn't stop him now. He quickly exited and popped the trunk. He armed himself, just in case. For all he knew, the Sandman was physically here. He couldn't take chances. He couldn't fail or forsake Dean.

Displaying more prudence than the he actually felt, Sam had to force himself into a measured advance. Forcing his urge to rush in to contain itself, he resisted the urge to bolt in and rummage the place. He crept to the entrance and pressed his body close to the frame, slithering inside with a 45 drawn in his hand. A measured exhale escaped to keep him from a mad dash to find Dean. He proceeded quietly. Gratification filled him when he observed a freshly streaked handprint in the dust covered walls. His brother had made it here. He would find him, save him, and possibly kick his ass for leaving in the first place. A small scoff of relief omitted from the depths of emotions that Sam was forcing in check. He took one step farther in the hall.

"SAMMY! PLEASE!"

Dean's stentorian voice sounded in Sam's ear. Hysteria filled Sam and all caution threw itself aside. He sprinted towards his brother's voice: a voice filed with longing, pleading, and alarm. It echoed in his head even though Dean had yet to make an additional sound. His legs pumped in a mad dash down the littered hallway.

"SAMMY..NO… PLEASE..!!!!!!!!!!" echoed again. Sam slid to a halt at the padded room's locked door. Through the door's small window, Sam could see his brother's huddled, quaking form upon the cushioned floor. Dean wrenched and vellicated in spasmodic jerks, a mere six feet from Sam. The 45 dropped from Sam's hand in utter disbelief. Seeing Dean writhe in agony, Sam fumbled with his lock picks in the corroded door lock.

"Sammy.. don't go…Sammy, I need you."

Dean remained unmoving on the pavement as Sammy stepped over him and walked away. "Sammy, don't go. Please." Sam words had cut him deeper than any injury he had ever experienced. All he wanted was his family, and it had been ripped apart for a second time. The bitterness inside him wanted to hurt Sam the way he had just hurt him. He wanted so much to tell Sammy he hated him too, but he couldn't. The love he had for his brother was stronger than any resentment he could ever feel. He dusted himself off and watched Sammy walk away from him. A part of Dean's heart and soul died all over again. "Please…Sammy…. Don't…

The Sandman's omnipresence voice chimed in. "You can't tell me that wasn't real!" The Sandman enjoyed the chaos he was inflicting upon Dean. "Sam told you how he felt, but you still refuse to believe. You're a pathetic unwanted loner, who pretends he doesn't need anybody. The truth is you need them when they don't need you. You leaving Sam was the best thing to happen to him. He's not coming to look for you. He is relieved you are gone."

The memory soon became twisted as a ghost shadow of Sam stood before Dean. "Sammy!" Dean reached out to the apparition in loving expectation. His eyes welled with sadness and compassion for Sam.

Sam swatted away the advance. "Why did you bring me back to this mess? Why? I was happy, Dean! Happy! This is all your fault. I should have told you to go to hell the minute you stepped back into my life. Now, I have nothing left of my life. Mom's gone, Dad's gone, Jess is gone! I have nothing."

"You have me! I'd die for you. I'm gonna die for you…. I'd give anything for you to have a normal life.. anyt…"

"It's all about you and how you feel. You're selfish. You let everyone around you die! I should have listened to my heart all along. All you ever did was bring me to darkness. You're the real evil here! You!" Pivoting Sam turned away from Dean and began to walk away.

"Sammy." Dean sprinted after him and blocked his path again.

"No Dean! I'm serious. I can't wait to be away from you. I can't stand you and your orders. Your self centered longing to keep everything the way you want it. No Dean!" Sam pushed Dean to the ground again with harsh effort. "I hated you then, and I hate you now." Sam walked over him once again, but Dean scrambled to his feet in determination to convince this Sam to stay.

"Sammy," Dean's voice filled with longing and kindness.

"I hate you, Dean!" Sam screamed as he knocked Dean back to the ground. "I want you out of my life once and for all!" Sam's large hands wrapped around Dean's neck.

Dean gasped and shook. His lungs screamed for air as he pawed at his brother's arms in desperation. He mouthed, "Sammy…please" as the ghost Sam pressed his hands harder and tighter around Dean's neck.

Observing Dean's breaths coming harder and the shaking becoming worse, Sam abandoned the idea of picking the rusty lock. Instead, he picked up his 45 and a shot rang out. The door lock melted with the impact and the door swung open.

Wheezing in shock from the sound of the gun shot, Dean returned from his hallucination, unbeknownst to him. The image of Sam standing over him with a gun drawn conflicted him with terror and longing. Harsh breaths sucked in his lungs.

It was then that Sam realized the stress on Dean was overwhelming. In his vision, the sight of Sam with the gun had ended in Dean's body succumbing to the wear and stress. He had never had a vision that was not connected to the yellow eyed demon before. This vision was different. Maybe, it was different because he was connected to Dean more than any other thing in the universe. The vision had scared him at first, but now he understood. Tossing the gun aside this time, he splayed his hands wide and walked slowly toward his brother's shaking form.

Falling to his knees, Sam watched Dean's undulating, sobbing, whimpering, wasting form. Dean's face was gaunt, haggard, ashen, and tear-reddened. Regret, pain, and loneliness mixed in Dean's eyes. A torrent of tears fell and streaked upon the tears that had already been shed. In truth, Sam had never seen him cry like this.

The sight of Sam's face set off more terrible tremors to Dean's core. His mind felt confused and heavy. All the emotion he felt for his brother mingled with fear. He wanted Sam to love him and to forgive him. "Sam, I'm sorry...please, don't go... please...please," Dean whispered weakly. Dean's sanity and internal functions were gasping for the release of death.

Reaching into his pocket, Sam began searching for something. He stopped when Dean's fear intensified.

Dean's eyes flashed in horror and he lamented between uncontrollable sobs "Sammy no, please...please forgive me... I'm sorry. Don't...don't kill me... please...please don't. Do you hate me that much!!!!??...Sammmyyy...I…..why...I love you Sammy... please...WHY, SAMMY?"

Dean recoiled in terror. He pushed his frame to the cushioned wall until there was no other place to maneuver.

Sam inched closer, locking his eyes to Dean's tearful eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't let you go on like this. Please, let me help you. I going to help you… let me…Just breathe. Please." Sam begged.

"Sammy… I'm sorry… I should never…" Dean's broken voice rasped harder. "I'm.."

"Shhhh…its okay… Whatever it is, I forgive you." Sam sneaked closer. He was close enough to touch Dean, but he didn't rush his advance. " Just calm down…okay….I forgive you… "

Dean looked up at him with sorrow that was tinged by a glimmer of hope. "Then, please...don't…..don't go."

Dean reached out for his brother's arm, the third attempt to Dean's mind. Sam didn't recoil from Dean's touch. A loud sob tore from Dean's soul.

Sam tapped Dean's injured shoulder softly, attempting to comfort Dean without inflicting any pain. Dean gasped at the measure of comfort. It was more shocking in this moment than any of the hallucinations had been. He found himself lost and he threw his arms around Sam. Dean's grip was weak, but he clung to Sam in disconsolateness. Sam's heart broke and tears fell from his own eyes. Sam's arms wrapped around Dean in soothing and affectionate consolation. Dean's sob and broken speech still continued.

"Sam.. I'm….." His breaths were shallow pants and the sobs took words from him repeatedly. "I'm…please…don't leave!!?" Dean begged in great effort. His pale face's only color was provided by the salt stains from his tears. He leaned heavily on Sam and sobbed. He was unable to hold back the chaos of emotions.

Sam's voice was comforting, "Shhh…its okay, Dean. I'm here and I not going to leave you."

Dean wasn't sure if Sam was real or imaginary, but he didn't care for the moment. He had so many things he wanted to say swirling in his head, but all of them seem insignificant now. He doubted if he was physically or mentally capable of forming thoughts into words. He refused to let go of this Sam- visionary or reality based- even if it meant another round of torture. All he could muster was breathy pleas and sobs. "Sam...I'm sorry...please...please stay...don't..." Dean's gasps became raspier and the intervals between breaths became longer.

Welling with their own water, Sam's eyes reflected Dean's anguish with every uttered plea. "Dean, It's okay...shh...please, just breathe. Okay." Sam voice was coaxing and melodious. "Just...shh... breathe...calm down..shh...shh

Dean tried to obey Sam, but his body quivered in Sam's arms. "Sammy..." Dean groaned and muttered in a whisper.

"Shhh..no...just breathe with me..." Sam held Dean tightly. Seeing Dean this way was crushing. Dean needed him. "Shh….I got you……I got ya." Readjusting his hand to the back of Dean's head, he pressed Dean's face to rest on his shoulder. Sam found he was rocking his brother like a newborn baby. Sam released one arm from the embrace and poked his free hand in his jacket. He pulled out a syringe and popped the top off with his thumb. Careful to keep the needle from Dean's view, Sam jabbed it into Dean's upper arm. Feeling the prickle, Dean let out a weak moan. "Easy...easy...there we go...just let go..you need sleep…..just go to sleep, Dean...shh."

Dean's eyes became heavier and his head reeled. Sam could feel Dean's head jiggle under his comforting and restraining hand. Dean's hand struggled to grip Sam back. "Shhh...Just relax...You're going to be okay..I promise...just sleep...and.." Sam found himself becoming choked up. "Shh...Its okay," Sam's lips shuddered. Dean's arms became limp. Soon his arms slid down Sam's back to the floor. Concern over the change in his condition, Dean groaned. "Shh..." Sam repeated as he began to softly lower Dean upon the padded floor.

Dean gave his brother a look of questioning worry when his body became even more sluggish. "Shhh... it's okay...it's just a sedative...just relax."

The quivers and sobbing had lessened as a sleepy thickness spread over Dean. He blinked as if time passed in slow motion. His rasps became heavy labored breathing. Glancing at Sam one last time, he slipped into deep slumber.

Scooting next to Dean, Sam sighed heavily and his own tears fell. He leaned his head against the padded wall and all the anxiety, fear, pain, and sorrow welled, coming out in a weep. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the zombie like nature his brother's face had become.


	8. Reunited

**Author's Note: Thanks to all of you still with me. I have enjoyed the reviews and appreciated them. We are getting close to the biggest guilt in Dean's life in the upcoming chapters.**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Sam's eyes blinked open and it took him a few moments to realize that he had fallen asleep. Yawning deeply, he shook his head to ward off the morning drowsiness that remained. He hadn't intended to rest at all, but the downpour of emotions had wiped him out.

Perpendicular to him, Dean snored softly in heavy, but unlabored breathes. Sam was astonished to find pinkness had returned to Dean's face. A small smile snuck on Sam's face.

Shifting slightly, Dean attempted to nestle deeper into the padded floor. He was trying to stir himself awake.

Bewildered, Sam looked at his watch. He had been out longer than he thought. When he looked back down, he found Dean's eyes were open and watching him. Dean stared curiously and cautiously.

Happily, Sammy greeted him, "Morning. How are you feelin'?"

Dean remained silent. Sam was struck that Dean still looked exhausted or perhaps drained from this whole ordeal.

"I'm sorry if I scared you last night, Dean. You weren't...uh.."

"Sammy?" Dean said hopefully, still unsure if this Sam was really his Sam.

"It's me, Dean. I'm really here."

"Huh….no you're not…." He said despondently.

"All that matters is I'm here to help you and I'm never going to hurt you…you're my brother and we're all that's left."

"Sammy? No..couldn't find me...no."

"You're not the only hunter in this family."

Dean's eyes filled with worry. "I didn't want to hurt.."

"I know," Sam interrupted. "Dean, you and I are all we have left. Don't ask me to turn away when you need me. So, if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together."

Sam's declaration made Dean chuckle. A slight smirk appeared on Dean's face as this was all the proof he needed to know Sam was really here. "It doesn't matter if I die, as long as you liv…"

"Dean, I won't EVER let you sacrifice yourself to protect me."

"Sammy?" Dean scooted himself to lean in the room's corner wall. "Man, what the hell… did you give me?"

Sam chuckled. "Just a sedative. Dean listen. I went to see Dr. Benton..."

"If you brought that touchy-feely-hippie chic here with you, I'll kill you."

Sam shook his head and chuckled again. "Can you listen for a change!"

Overplaying his annoyance, Dean responded, "What!"

"When Dr. Benton sedated the last patient, a nurse swore a man was in her room that disappeared. I think the Sandman was there. I think he needed to be closer to regain control or something. And when you had a drunken stupor, he showed up too."

"That's a pretty big if, Sammy. Wait...where the hell did you get a sedative?"

"I stole them from the hospital below Dr. Benton's office."

A full laugh resounded deep from within Dean. His hand balled into a playful fist as he weakly tapped Sam's arm. "That's my boy!" He chuckled again in amused pride. "Did you get your Viagra?"

Sam found himself laughing too.

"So how long until we find out if your theory is correct there Master Yoda?...I mean..." Dean's eyes widened as he could hear the Sandman's voice in his head once more. The pain caused him to wince.

"What? Dean...is it...?

"I can hear him, Sammy." Dean tried to push the voice back to stay in this moment with Sam. His head began to pound as if a league of drums was sounding within his head.

Sam readied another sedative. "If this doesn't work… I swear, I'll find a way to fix this.. I won't let…"

"It's okay. I'm willing to try, Sam."

The needle pierced into Dean's bicep. Dean closed his eyes and allowed the heaviness to take his body once more. Within minutes, Dean returned to drug induced rest.

"I swear Dean. I'm gonna take care of this. I got this one. I won't give up on you, EVER. You hear that." Sam knew he had to be ready and it was time to set this theory and plan in action.

Sam screeched the wooden chair loudly across the shunned dining room floor. He winched and quickly turned as if any sound might awaken Dean. Dean was exactly where Sam had dragged him hours earlier- Still hugging the cot's mattress as if it was some long wayward love. Dean was sleeping softly and soundly. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sam rolled his eyes at himself for worrying. He tossed the chair into the large wood pile he had collected during Dean's snooze. Littering the room in a strange circle mess was a mixture of broken chairs, cloth, curtains, mattress, bed frames, tables, desk drawers, papers, stairwell banisters- hell if it would burn, Sam had thrown it in. To say Sam had been busy would be the all time universal understatement.

"Phbbbt" Sam vocalized and fanned the air in front of his nose in an attempt to ward off the fumes of gasoline and lighter fluid. Although, he could do without siphoning gas ever again in his life, at least Dean's last fill up at the gas station before leaving town was coming in handy. Sam got a good half a tank from that Pacer. Additionally, the aerosol can arsenal collection left behind in the mental hospital, from the Pacer, and the Impala wound up to be a nice addition to his hopes for a hellacious fire. He thought the Pacer's vanilla body spray would be his personal favorite. He wondered how that would smell once you lighted it. Sam was steadily finding humor, but he might have hit slap happy from his own exhaustion or perhaps giddy on fumes.

After this was all over, Sam dreaded to tell Dean that his brother's pack rat tendency to throw half used bags of salt, lighter fluid, oil containers, and match boxes in the trunk had been useful too. Sam shook his head in annoyed amusement. It irritated the crap out of him that Dean would get new supplies instead of digging around in the bottom of the trunk. That was Dean for you-a walking contradiction at times. The weapon's were always stored in the proper place and maintained to an almost obsessive degree, but below bags and miscellaneous crap stored in a heap. Sam didn't blame Dean though. Dean always kept the important stuff going and was the first to try to solve a bad situation. He decided quickly that he wouldn't admit Dean's pack rat sloppiness had been useful for a change; otherwise Dean would never let him hear the end of it. The pungent odor violently struck his nostrils another time.

Sam thought if the government only knew of the excessive amount of flammable liquids used in this one room, they would blame the Winchesters for the high gas prices. He let a slight sighing chuckle out as he promised to tell Dean that one later. His thoughts were disturbed when the travel arm clock beeped from Sam's grey duffle. He jogged over and quickly shut it off. Turning, he stumbled upon a couple of full bottles of lighter fluid and several aerosol cans. At least he didn't come crashing to the floor. Ignoring the rolling cans for a moment, he crossed to his brother's still sleeping form. Sam crouched down to the side of Dean's cot and carefully pulled the top off the last syringe. He hoped this last one was enough.

The last colorful rays of the evening sunset reflected brightly on the side of Dean's face. The dust Sam stirred in his enterprise illuminated as random rays of light peeked through clean spots in the windows. Small dust filled spotlights randomly displayed the bonfire creation. Sam refocused his attention squarely on his brother as he pulled Dean's t-shirt sleeve up slightly.

The dust continued to swirl in a circular pattern which lingered above Sam and Dean. Before Sam could administer the last sedative, a large boot crashed into the side of his head. His body jolted and landed several feet from the cot.

Spread eagle on the floor, Sam attempted to get back up. A threatening dark figure hovered above him and delivered a second kick to his abdomen. Trying to protect his gut, Sam rolled to his side in a fetal position. A strong blow landed to his skull sending him into darkness.


	9. Welcome Home

"Sam. You're not playing fair." The Sandman towered gloatingly over Sam's unconscious form

The powerless Sam lay at the Sandman's feet. Not contented that Sam was out of his way for the moment, the Sandman clobbered multiple kicks to Sam's torso. His twisted satisfaction increased each time a blow connected with Sam's unmoving form.

The Sandman's face lit up in a devilish grin, which became a self-satisfying laugh. That gloating expression soon changed as it met the crash of a broken table leg. The wood smashed with enough force to knock the Sandman off guard. Having no time to turn himself intangible, the Sandman thudded to the floor.

"Leave my brother alone!" Blood dripped from the broken table leg in Dean's hand. "hmmp...how do you like to bleed, you son of a bitch." Dean didn't wait for the Sandman to regain the upper hand, but smashed at him again. The Sandman had rose to his knees, when Dean's blow uppercut the Sandman's jaw. Again, the Sandman's reeled back to the floor, but this time he managed to turn himself to dust before he impacted again.

Dean stood in the center of Sam's wooden circle in a defensive stance. He waivered slightly, but held fast in his protection of Sam. The delay in the Sandman turning back to bodily form caused Dean to rotate in circles to protect himself and Sam from any angle.

Dean screamed, "Come on... you bastard. Show yourself!"

Dean knew that eventually the Sandman would attack and he desperately tried to anticipate the next plan of attack and defense.

Reconstructing into tangible form, the Sandman appeared to Dean's left. Dean whirled to make contact, but the Sandman caught his arm. Dean swung his free arm to the Sandman's abdomen. Catching this arm as well, the Sandman twisted the appendage into an odd angle. Dean's shoulder re-dislocated and sent him crashing to his knees in pain. The Sandman released Dean's injured arm. Placing a hand upon Dean's head, the Sandman re-entered Dean's mind with more force than any of the other visions.

"I'm tired of playing with you Dean." the Sandman shrieked. "It's time you faced the coward you are. It's time for you to make amends for being guilty of your mother's death."

"Welcome home, Dean." The Sandman jabbed.

The modest home of John and Mary Winchester flooded back to Dean. Standing in the haven hallway of Dean's childhood abode, a pang of longing shot through him. This had been his favorite place to play until that fateful night years ago. He stood outside his bedroom watching his father tuck his childhood self into the diminutive bed.

"Alright, kiddo, time for bed."

"But Dad, I forgot to show Sammy my new car! It's the Impaya like yours." Dean small fingers held a matchbox car out in hopeful expectation.

"You can show him tomorrow." John chuckled. "And if you go to bed, you can help me under the real Impala tomorrow."

The adult Dean leaned heavily upon his former bedroom door. A wetness flashed over his tired green eyes. He couldn't believe how happy he had been then- how wonderful the world seemed in his childlike heart- how wonderful it seemed to him now. This was the family Dean had tried to get back to all his life. A tear of longing, regret, and pain rolled down his cheek. He knew this world could never be again, no matter how much he wanted it. His thoughts were interrupted as an image of his mother drifted by him. He reached out to touch her, but found only air. All he could do was observe this world and watch it be destroyed all over again.

"Okay, you two grease monkeys! Stop talking cars. One of you should already be in bed." She waved her finger at both of them. John smiled innocently. Winking, she bent down and gave Dean's forehead a gentle kiss.

"Uh-oh, Dean. I think she means you. We better do what she says or we're both going to be in trouble." John poked Dean's abdomen, which caused a giggle.

"I forgot he use to do that," the grown Dean spouted in heartbreak to himself as he touched his abdomen. The memory had been trapped in his head all these years. The loss of his father stung all the more.

The Sandman drew in Dean's despair and it fortified the Sandman with more strength. However, Dean ignored the Sandman's presence. He was only able to fixate on the isolation he felt and the yearning to grasp and change this moment.

Staggering in regret, Dean stood above the image of his father. As if his words could change anything, he spoke to the image. "Dad, I...I'm sorry...I wish... I had died instead of you...or Mom..." His eyes were still wet and he tried to hold back the flood of tears that screamed to be released.

His mother tenderly kissed his child form one more time. "Goodnight, sweetie. Just close those peepers and go to sleep. Sleep soundly my dear heart, Angels are watching over us."

She kissed the boy a third time as he nested into his pillow. John grasped Mary's hand as they walked away from the bed. Turning one last time before they both left, Mary smiled at her precious son.

The adult Dean let the regret of what he had lost spread through him. Staring at the boy he had been, he begged himself. "Just stay here. Don't leave this bed!"


	10. Hidden

It was useless. Dean knew that he didn't go to sleep that night. The small Dean sat up listening for sounds that Mary and John had gone to bed. He rolled the Impala toy upon his blankets quietly. A small coo trickled from Sam's room, and Dean sprang from his bed. The grown Dean stood in his path to block the boy from leaving. The ghost of Dean's childhood passed through him like a phantom and scooted down the hall quietly. Taking a step into Sam's room, the child jerked quickly back as soon as he saw a figure standing over Sam's crib. He breathed heavily in fear that his father would catch him out of bed.

Sam cried slightly as the figured loomed closer. Feet flopped on the floor of his parent's room. Dean panicked and crouched into the bathroom. He peered from the dark door frame as his mother entered then exited Sam's room.

Dean watched his past self hide in the shadows of the dark bathroom. The child thought of fleeing back to his room, but his mother returned up the stairs quickly. He hugged the frame harder and backed farther in. He could hear his mother speaking, but the voice that answered was not his father's voice. He sneaked closer out of his curiosity.

As the boy inched into the hallway, the adult and tortured Dean fell to his knees in anguish. He didn't need to watch. He knew what was about to happen. Of all the pain and things he had ever seen, this was the one image that haunted him his entire life.

The boy found his way to Sam's room and peered into the darkness. He found himself staring at a pair of yellow eyes. The startled boy released the toy Impala in his hand. As it clattered in the floor, his mother and the figure turned to face the child.

In surprise, Mary uttered, "Dean."

With the flick of his arm, the shadow figure flung the child Dean into the hallway wall. Thudding against the cheerfully papered wall, Dean slid down into the floor. An impulsive scream rang from Mary and echoed through the house.

The future Dean jumped as he had not remembered the attack upon him that night. He realized his pain had hid many of the details of that night.

The impact had knocked the wind from the boy for a second. His small head ached and swam. Before the fear caused him to scream, the shock of Mary being flung to the ceiling stole his voice again.

The image replay froze in that moment. The grown Dean, still on his knees, froze too, but not by the Sandman's means. The guilt he knew in his soul was in front of him- His mother's eyes locked in horror. The part that he knew was true. He had watched his mother die.

Stalking around Dean in a circle, the Sandman grew stronger and cockier with Dean's despair. "If you had entered before Mary, you would be the one dead. You could have saved her. Sam, your Dad, and your Mom would have lived. Or if you hadn't stuck your nose in, Mommy dearest would still be alive, too. Why didn't he attack her until he saw you? Why Dean!?! You're a death omen to this family. If you had listened and stayed in you're bed, none of this would have happened. Of all the special children, why did so few of their parents end up dead? Why was yours one of the few? You! You had to interfere, you had to get your way that night and she wound up dead because of it."

Dean didn't argue. The words were exactly what he felt all these years. The truth he feared to keep from Sam and his Dad-afraid they would see. His eyes could not hide tears any longer. The more he stared at his mother's terror filled eyes, the more his soul died.

"You're the real evil, Dean. A death knell to all those around you. You're Momma, your Daddy and soon it will be Sam. Everything you touch turns to decay and pain. Who else must be sacrificed for your miserable life?" The Sandman allowed the image to progress again. John, in worry for Mary, ran past the boyish Dean unnoticed. Both Deans didn't even look at John, but locked onto Mary's eyes.

As the flames erupted around Mary, both Deans mouthed "Momma" in unison. The grown Dean hung his head and brushed away a tear from his cheek. He raised his head to see his mother's beautiful face pleading in pain. The image of his mother's begging eyes held him transfixed.

The Sandman dissolved the images of his childhood away until only Dean and his mother remained. He lingered for several minutes watching his mother be engulfed by fire. The guilt welled in him until he could no longer tolerate seeing his mother burning. Standing, Dean turned away from Sam's nursery to block out what he had witnessed that night. His eyes were ready to downpour. Cupping his chin and mouth, he tried to regain some semblance of control.

"It does no good to turn away. You can't change the past, but you can prevent yourself from becoming the death of Sam." The Sandman's voice warped from glee to soothing in a flash. "The truth is in your mind. Just give into me and I can take all this pain away. All the burdens you carry will be gone, Dean. All this chaos and violence will be over. I promise. You understand, now."

"I killed her... I let her die…if I hadn't been...she." Dean couldn't vocalize the rest of his pain. His face displayed the years of a guilt burden on his spirit. His attempt to maintain his mind faltered. His lip trembled rapidly and shallow pants of regret passed through his mouth. His face distorted in pain and sorrow and tears fell from his eyes.


	11. Mother's Command

"Dean, I can take away all that pain- all the guilt. If you let go, you can save yourself and Sammy more heartbreak. You know what you have to do." The Sandman's voice was full of sickly saccharine contentment.

"No, Sammy needs me. I can't just... I can't abandon him. He's all I have." An overload of emotion caused Dean's body to shudder. His shoulder heaved in an attempt to gain some control. Turning to face his mother, Dean mouthed, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry! Do you think she can forgive you? You took her from her precious Sam. How could your mother forgive you now? How could anyone in your family ever forgive you. But I can. I can give you the peace that you seek. That you have been seeking for a long time." The Sandman touched Dean's shoulder in reassurance.

The scene around Dean warped and he found himself facing Sam's room once again. Instead of his child self, Dean stood where he had many years ago. The tiny toy Impala clutched in his palm. The surprise of it caused him to drop it. As it clattered in the floor, his mother and the figure turned to face him.

In alarm, Mary uttered, "Dean."

Dean locked eyes with his mother for a brief second. With the flick of the demons arm, the shadow figure slammed Dean into the hallway wall. He sunk down into the floor as Mary screamed. The impact knocked all the air from his lungs. He struggled for air in a sharp wheeze. He scrambled to get up in a futile effort to reach his mother, but he was disoriented and unsteady. Vaguely, Dean could hear his father's voice echo from below, "Mary".

It's was Mary's voice that rang clear to him. "No, don't hurt him." Blocking the figure in Sam's door frame, Dean couldn't see beyond Mary's form.

Dean rose in time to see Mary thud to the ceiling and the shadow man head towards Sam's crib again. The echo of John's steps skittered up the stairway. John whizzed past his son without notice as he had the fateful night. Dean forced himself to shake off his disorientation and stumbled groggily towards Sam's room. His eyes focused on his mother's face. Dean shuttered when the flickers of flame swirled around his mother's body. Time moved in a sluggish petty pace. A pale yearning expression seemed to reach out to Dean from her eyes. His mother's eyes darted and focused on Dean. A gasped escaped Dean's lip. "She was still alive...oh..God...she was alive…the fire..she was alive..when...she."

"When she burned! Yes, Dean! Strange how the mind protects itself! All the guilt you thought you knew, it was only the slimmest inkling of the truth. She felt every flicker- every scorch- every burn upon her flesh. Your mind knew that all along. You have lied to yourself so long about that you have believed the lies. She died for you when it was you who deserved to die- many times over."

Dean stared at Mary's face with sorrow filled zeal, as if he could permanently carve her face as a remembrance of guilt. He refused to look away from her as the flames swirled around her. She reached out to him with her gaze. It was the same look he got when he did something wrong. His heart and soul ached in bitter sweet remorse. "Her eyes...she knew.. she...knew that she died because of me."

"Yes. You're mother wanted you to know what you had done to her."

Dean no longer cared what the Sandman said. Silent tears fell from his eyes. The image of Mary slowed to a tortuous pace. Dean paid little attention to John and baby Sam as the event played around him.

Siphoning Dean's strength with each passing moment, a glee spread on the Sandman's face. Dean grew weaker with each passing second.

Dean held adamant as if Mary's face had tacked him to the hallway floor. Her eyes, they were the same eyes she used when she wanted him to do something. He had seen it countless times when he had misbehaved. It was that look that would break his heart and force him to rethink his actions. The look that, now, made him wish for his own death. Mary's eyes softened and a small knowing smile flickered as she focused hard on Dean. The movement would have passed by quickly that night. However, in this dawdling vision, Dean could see it now. She was trying to comfort him. She was dying and she wanted to comfort him. He sucked in a sob and found himself calling for his father. "Dad" he spouted as if he could beg him to somehow save his mother. Gasping, Dean's despondency sunk even lower. He didn't even realize when his father desperately placed baby Sam in his arms, but was lost in his mother's soft and beseeching gaze.

She wanted something from him, but he didn't know what it was. Then, his mother's lips parted and she mouthed, "Go, Dean" His father shook him and told him to go just as he had years earlier. He didn't hear John. It was his mother that snapped Dean from despair. Somehow, she wanted him to live. He shuddered momentarily in amazement, and then clasped Sammy to him. Bolting down history's staircase, he swore he wouldn't fail to carry out his mother's order.

-x-x-x-xx

_**Sorry this chapter is not as long as I would like. **__**I'm trying to get you at least a piece up as I can.**__** The Sandman Battle is coming soon as well as a mystery for Dean to solve in the future- a memory of his past that holds family secrets (how is that for a teaser.) . I have two pieces left to write. Hope you enjoy. **_


	12. Haven

Colors rushed by Dean in a mad churning. Suddenly, he found himself away from the image of his mother's death into a moment of soft hued contentment. The Sandman stalked around him as if he was still torturing him, but no sound came from the vile monster's throat. He felt the Sandman, but something stronger held him here. His head felt clear with a warm rush of jubilance coursing thorough him. It was then he saw his mother cradling his small self again. He remembered this day; it was one of the most horrible days of his childhood, but somehow was his fondest memory. All he could remember of it before was his mother's tenderness as she held him. The Sandman continued his soundless platitudes, but somehow Dean was safe here.

Mary rocked her son gently and was steadily getting his former self drowsy.

Screaming from the hall, John stormed huffily into the room. "Mary!"

"Shh," she scolded John. "John Winchester, I've almost got him to sleep and if you.."

"I'm sorry, Mary. When I got the message he was hurt, I... I ran every red light in two states.. I'm never going on a part run again."

Reassuringly, Mary smiled at John. "He's fine. Just bumps and bruises. The doctor said we were lucky."

"Stupid teenagers could have killed him. What were they doing speeding through here any ways?! I swear I'm going to give Johnson a piece of my mind about his kid."

"John, your son doesn't need you to be a hothead."

"Let's see how big of a hothead Johnson is, if his kid gets smacked by a car. Then you'll..."

Scolding, Mary stopped his rant cold. "John."

John looked softly at Mary. "And you in your condition."

"I'm pregnant, not infirmed." She gave John her most disapproving look, followed by her all knowing smile. The smile that she knew would melt away all the panic, fear, and anger in John.

"I'm sorry, Mary, I would do anything for my kid….kids." He corrected quickly. "I'd pretty much sell my soul," John joked. Crossing over to her side, he placed a hand on Mary's slight belly bump. He gave her a peck on the lips.

Mary's face became distant as if she remembered something that caused her great distress. "I know" she said blankly.

"Mary?"

"I'm just tired. It has been a rough couple of days, you know," she allowed her voice to return to its playfulness. "All that matters is that Dean's okay, no matter what, he is okay."

The word okay seemed to comfort John's panic over his son. Walking behind her, he rubbed Mary's stressed shoulders. Dean's sleepy eyes looked up at him. "And this sleepyhead is about to zone out on us." He scruffed Dean's hair and his hand traveled to rest upon Dean's cheek. He bent down and placed three light kisses on Dean's forehead. The boy looked up at his father contentedly.

The grown Dean found a peaceful joy emanated from his depths. He found himself wondering- was he dead now? Is this where your spirit goes? Does it bring you to the happiest memory? What about his deal and Hell? Whatever brought him to this place, he was grateful. He felt no remorse or sadness, but could remember how loved he was at that moment.

John tussled his child's mop top again and rested his hand upon his cheek. The boy nuzzled against it and blinked his eyes slowly. John rubbed his thumb upon his son's cheekbone several times before he permitted the boy's head to return to his mother's shoulder.

"Go to sleep kiddo, it's all okay, now. Daddy's home." A proud smile spread across John's face.

Abruptly, a grumble groaned from Mary's stomach.

"Have you eaten anything?"

Mary smiled."Not much, but once I get him to bed, I'l..."

"I'll go make dinner. Once Dean goes night night, I'll get him to bed. Just stay here and both of you take it easy for a while."

A jovial flirt entered Mary's voice "John Winchester, are you trying to spoil me?"

Winking, John returned her challenge. "Hmm.. Maybe?" He smiled at her one last time before he exited.

The grown Dean found himself smiling at the interaction. He lingered in the doorway of his room, watching his father leave until he could not even see the man's shadow.

Returning his focus to his mother, she began to rock the child lightly. Dean paced to her side and bent over to look at her warm face. He wanted to tell her many things, but somehow all that came out was "I love you".

Mary continued comforting her injured son. Speaking softly, she spun a story to lull him into slumber. "Dean, one day when I'm gone...I want you to remember how much I love you. You have the most wonderful caring heart…. and passion, even as young as you are now. When you're grown, I know how much you are going to give to this world. I know the world will seem unfair to you, but remember this world gave me you." Tears were rising in her eyes. "The road may get rough, but you will do so much good in the world. I could never let anything happen to you. So, if I leave you one day, I want you to be brave and strong..okay?" A corner of her mouth turned into a sad smile and tears flowed down upon her cheeks. Then Mary uttered a word strange to Dean. "Appoloin"

Puzzled by his mother's words, Dean's mind raced for meaning to his mother's strange message, "What do you mean? Mom, what?"

* * *

_**Okay, this chapter not only provides a safe place for Dean. It is setting up a mystery and a story for later. If you look up the**__** word… I can't stop ya. :D**_

_**One more chapter and it**__**'**__**s all done. Thanks for all your support and comments. It has helped me continue time and again. Reviews are really LOVE!  
**_

_** -x-x-x-x-xx  
**_


	13. Its Sam!

It was too late. The memory swirled around him in a watercolor of vibrating lights, which quickly merged into the image of the Sandman towering over him. The Sandman's eyes were full of shock as he jerked away, releasing Dean's head from his grasp. Dean slammed hard to the floor and bounced. Wheezing, he found it hard to catch his breath, partly from the Sandman's attack and partly from the fumes of Sam's handiwork. He forced his eyes to focus on the Sandman and the piece of cloth wrapped around his evil neck. Sammy hung tightly to that cloth, trying to pull the Sandman from Dean.

Dean chuckled. Sammy wasn't giving up. His injured arm ached, but he raised himself unsteadily in a partial push up position. Hoping his legs would make up for this lack of coordination somehow, he cocked himself half upright. Searching his jean pocket, Dean found his silver lighter and flicked it upon the wooden mess. The lighter fluid and gas popped to life and sparked the entire room in a leviathan of hellfires. A strange circular halo of fire flared almost instantaneously. As the strange light show spread onto the dry wood, Dean pushed himself to his knees with concentrated effort.

It only took a few seconds for the Sandman to recover from his broken connection with Dean. Soon, he turned into his intangible form and floated way from Sam's garrote. Sam whirled around quickly. "Dean!" He screamed to warn his brother of the Sandman's freedom. He was about to cross when the Sandman emerged behind him and used Sam's own body weight to pull him to the ground. Wrapping the cloth twice around Sam's neck, the Sandman straddled his chest. Sam wriggled and pumped his legs wildly as he struggled for air. His eyes became large and dilated.

The increasing vacancy of Sam's eyes caused Dean to push himself to his feet. As the Sandman gripped the makeshift garrote with more strength, Sam gurgled.

"I'm tired of playing this game with you. Goodbye, Sammy!"

Across the room, a thunderous primal scream forged from within Dean. The reverberation of it startled the Sandman to jump and glance up. As he moved his head, his eyes found the unwanted sight of Dean's twisted frenzy. Ramming a flaming jagged wooden stake-like javelin into the Sandman's chest, Dean riveted the make-shift weapon with as much might as he could with his good arm. It was enough for the Sandman to release his hold on Sam's throat.

"It's Sam, you son of a bitch." Dean said as he twisted the staff once more. The Sandman grabbed Dean's dislocated arm and pressed hard causing him to release the staff. Dean wobbled on his feet, winching and grumbling in pain.

Sam clawed at the cloth around his neck. As he gasped his first breath of air, he pulled his legs close to his torso. He pumped hard, forcing his legs into the unsuspecting Sandman's abdomen. Releasing Dean, the Sandman spiraled back and stumbled toward the inferno. The freed Dean splattered to the floor, striking his injured arm again.

Sam stood quickly and grabbed at the stake in the Sandman's chest. He used it as a lever to send the monster crashing into the middle of the blaze. A shattering ear piercing sound screeched from within the blaze as the Sandman flopped in the bonfire's heat. He managed to tremor his way to the fire's edge and collapse. The sound had stopped, but Sam kicked the carcass back into the blaze for good measure. "Die, you bastard. You are not getting my brother."

Turning, Sam tottered when he noticed that Dean remained unmoving upon the floor. He sprinted to his brother's side and turned his brother to face him. "Dean!'

Dean groaned, but pain and hardship stole his words for the moment. He sucked in two painful breaths. His body succumbed to the energy drain and he couldn't find the strength to move. The slightest movement seemed a struggle. Throbbing pain shot through his injured arm.

"Dean...are you okay?"

Dean nodded in a head jiggle. The fire had quickly spread beyond Sam's masterpiece unto the buildings structure. Getting a hold under Dean's good arm, Sam hoisted him from the floor clumsily. "Argh..." Dean winced and panted. "ah...God..uh.."

"I got ya. Easy..." Sam supported Dean's attempt at a mixed walk, stumble, and wobble to the door.

-------------------------

The Impala's black shine mirrored the inferno Sam and Dean had left behind them. Sam found himself hoping that whatever pains his brother faced would remain in the ashes as well. Leaning Dean against the Impala back door, Sam swung the front passenger door wide. Dean smirked pensively as the door's groaning growl echoed in the night. He was amazed that the sound would give him such comfort.

"Dean?"

Dean raised his head to look at his brother, taking a few labor breaths before he spoke, "I'm okay...I."

Sam looked concerned and forlorn as he was tentative to touch the injured shoulder. Dean quickly realized that Sam was warning him that he was going to pop it. Dean nodded his head in a few quick jerks. Closing his eyes, he prepared himself for unavoidable pain. Sam grasped his brother's arm with one hand and the shoulder blade with the other. Dean flinched diminutively as even this touch caused him great pain. Dean's eyes remained closed and he slowed his breathing to labored deep breaths. Sam let Dean take a few preparatory breaths. Upon an exhale, Sam pressed in a swift moment causing the arm to snap into in place.

"Ugh! Son of a..." Dean screamed as the pain caused him to collapse into the passenger seat. Sucking in several exasperated breaths as the pain eased up enough, Dean didn't move for several seconds. Finally, he tried to drag one leg into the floorboard with little success.

Grabbing Dean's ankles, Sam swung his brother's tired legs into the car and closed the door. Racing to the other side, Sam jumped in, slammed his own door, and started the Impala in a flash.

Dean managed to twist himself to rest his head upon the seat and let out an exhausted sigh.

"Dean?"

"I'm fine." Dean rested his screaming dry eyes for a moment. "Sammy, just do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Just floor it outta here!" Dean forced himself to weakly chuckle.

Sam laughed in spite of his concern. "You got it. Where to?"

"Anywhere there's a bed or the greasiest sloppiest cheeseburger you can find."

Sam laughed again and ripped the Impala from the fire engulfed building.

Sam fumbled with a mess of bags as he pushed the diner's door into the outside parking lot. Strutting to the parked Impala, Sam shoved the bags through the open driver's side window. With his hands now free, he opened the door and flopped down. The morning sun streaked through the front window, temporarily blocking Sam's view. Pulling the visor down, he dug into the bags. "Well, it's too early for cheeseburgers, but I got the biggest loaded bisc…."

He turned to hand over the carefully wrapped sandwich, only to find his brother had drifted to sleep. The sun flashed on Dean's face and he flinched as if the light would soon wake him. Sam pulled the Dean's visor down blocking the disturbance. Dean breathed in a heavy sigh and crisscrossed his good arm over his injured one upon his chest.

Tossing the food aside, Sam dug deep in his pockets for some buried treasure within- as least a treasure for Dean. He lifted Dean's hand and cupped them around the Impala's keys. He tapped Dean's hand reassuringly. "You're NEVER leaving me like that again," he softly said.

Sam smiled happily as he scooted down in his seat. He figured a few winks couldn't hurt either of them. Closing his eyes, Sam felt more at home than he had for years.

-----The End-----

_**We'll, it's over . I can't believe it. Thanks to you all. ILY. Thanks for the reviews and advice. I am in your debt.**_


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